Edge of Danger (19 page)

‘So what happened in Hazar?’ the Prime Minister asked.

‘Well, for one thing, the Council of Elders is still intact, thanks to Dillon.’

‘Not that little Irish swine again,’ Carter said.

‘Carter, we’re not friends, but I’ve never disputed your efficiency in the past. Let me tell you what Dillon achieved, if you’ll allow me, Prime Minister.’

‘Of course.’

Afterwards, the Prime Minister said, ‘Extraordinary,’ and even Carter had to agree.

‘Now tell him about Nantucket,’ the Prime Minister said.

This time, when Ferguson had finished, Carter said, ‘It’s incredible, the whole damn business.’ He looked more shaken than Ferguson had ever seen him. ‘Well, it’s clear we’ll have to cancel everything with the Premier, wipe it all out.’

‘Hold on,’ Ferguson said. ‘We have a better idea.’

‘What is that?’ the Prime Minister said.

‘Russian security must be told we might have a problem. I would handle it this way, if the Deputy Director approves. Allow the arrangements at the Dorchester to go through. That would be for the media.’

‘And then?’

‘Cancel the cocktail party on the Prince Regent, but only at the last moment. Any excuse will do. Change the dinner venue to somewhere like the Reform Club. I’m sure they’d love to have you, sir.’

The Prime Minister smiled. ‘I’m certain of it.’

Carter said, ‘And then?’

‘The Premier is taken back, not to the Dorchester but to his Embassy.’

‘But what would the final point be?’ the Prime Minister said.

‘That I would wait in the suite at the Dorchester with people of my choosing.’

‘Dillon?’

‘Yes, sir, and some friends of his. They did great service in Hazar. However, you wouldn’t put them on the New Year’s Honours List.’

‘And they’d wait to see if Rashid or this man Bell turned up?’

‘Yes, sir, but it’s even better than that. I think the Deputy Director already sees what I’m getting at.’

Carter smiled. ‘Yes.’ And he turned to the Prime Minister. ‘There’s been no indictable proof against Rashid up to now. But if he comes, or one of his men, and we get him alive, he won’t be untouchable any more. He must be getting desperate by now. At last, we can lay a trap for him instead of the other way around.’

‘Then so be it.’ The Prime Minister stood. ‘It’s in your hands, gentlemen. Mr Johnson, I’ll speak to the President.’

Outside, it was cold. Dillon stood beside the Daimler smoking a cigarette as Ferguson, Blake and Carter approached.

Ferguson said to Carter, ‘Can I give you a lift?’

‘No, I feel like a walk, and sitting in the car with someone who once mortar-bombed Downing Street is more than I can take.’

Dillon said, ‘Jesus, sir, the grand man you are, and absolutely right.’

In spite of himself, Carter laughed. ‘Damn you, Dillon.’ He moved away toward the Downing

Street gates, paused and turned back, and he wasn’t smiling. ‘I don’t care who he is, I don’t care about his medals or his money. Stop him, Dillon.’

He walked away.

Ferguson phoned Rashid at the company offices and found he was not available. A secretary asked him to wait, and after a moment, Kate Rashid came to the phone.

‘General Ferguson. What can I do for you?’

‘I’ll be in the Piano Bar at the Dorchester at eight o’clock.’

‘Am I supposed to be interested?’

‘I’d earnestly advise it, Lady Kate. Bring the Earl.’

He put down the phone.

She reported to Paul, who was down at the Dauncey Arms with Bell and Michael, and told him of her conversation with Ferguson. ‘I’ll handle it, if you want me to,’ she said.

‘No,’ Paul said. ‘We’ll come up this afternoon. I’m not going to leave you on your own with Dillon and Ferguson. Never underestimate the General. I’ll see you later.’

He switched off his phone. Michael said, ‘Trouble?’

‘Ferguson wants a meeting. We’ll go back.’

‘All of us?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He turned to Bell. ‘You’ll have to keep your head down.’ He smiled at Betty Moody. ‘We’re heading out, love.’

As they sat in the Rolls-Royce, the glass divider closed, the Earl said to Bell, ‘I think you’d better not stay at the South Audley house.’

‘Where would you suggest?’

‘Michael has a motor cruiser parked at a place called Hangman’s Wharf at Wapping. You can stay there overnight.’

‘That sounds good to me.’

‘This meeting, brother,’ Michael asked. ‘What does Ferguson want?’

‘Whatever Dillon wants. We’ll see.’ Paul Rashid closed his eyes and leaned back.

But in London, Dillon had been doing some thinking himself. He had hooked up to Ferguson’s computer and trawled the list of the Rashid company’s assets. Then he called Harry Salter at the Dark Man.

‘Harry. Michael Rashid has this boat parked at Hangman’s Wharf in Wapping. You know everything that’s going on along the river. What’s the story?’

‘Let me check my computer.’ After a while, Salter came back, laughing. ‘It’s called Hazar.’

‘Well, that fits. Is Billy there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Put us on conference.’

After explaining the situation, Dillon said, ‘So he must have Bell tucked up somewhere. What do you think? South Audley Street or Hangman’s Wharf?’

‘Could be either,’ Billy said. ‘I’ll check out South Audley for an hour or two this evening. If there’s no result, I’ll try the Hazar.’

That evening, Kate Rashid arrived first, to find Dillon waiting for her.

‘What? No piano this evening, Dillon? I’m disappointed. I came all this way just to hear you play. You’d never know that your true vocation is for killing people.’

‘But not torture, Kate. Not killing a young, decent man in the most horrific way. Bronsby deserved better.’

‘Well, fuck you, too,’ she said.

‘Jesus, girl, did they tell you that at Oxford?’

In spite of herself, she showed a glimmer of a smile. ‘Oh, posh girls can be worse than the tarts.’

‘How exciting.’

He lit a cigarette, and she reached and took it from his mouth and smoked it for a moment. ‘You killed my brother.’

‘Who’d arranged for Bronsby to be skinned, and you and the Earl were there. Do you mean to tell me you approve of one and hate the other?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Not really. I just hate you for George’s death.’

‘No, Kate, no, you don’t. That’s the problem.’

Billy and his uncle sat in a Shogun in South Audley Street, Billy at the wheel, Harry reading the Evening Standard. He happened to glance up and saw a Mini emerge from a side entrance to the house.

‘It’s Bell and Michael Rashid, Billy. Get moving.’

Paul Rashid appeared in the Piano Bar just as Ferguson and Johnson walked in. He looked well,

tanned from the Hazar sun, in a cream linen suit and the usual Guards tie.

‘General Ferguson.’ He didn’t shake hands. ‘Dillon. Mr Johnson.’

They all sat down.

Ferguson said, ‘It’s over.’

‘What is?’ Rashid asked.

‘You know very well. I thought I’d give you one last chance: Stop it now. You’ve got away with a great deal, but not again, I can promise you.’

Paul spoke softly and deliberately. ‘I’m a great believer in family. I had a brother, a greatly loved brother, killed in Hazar.’

‘If you’ll excuse me, My Lord,’ Dillon said. ‘The fact that you can make such a fuss about that after what you did to Bronsby indicates that you’re seriously disturbed.’ Kate tossed her glass of champagne in his face. Dillon ran his tongue over his lips and reached for a napkin. ‘What a waste.’

Just then, his mobile rang. ‘Excuse me.’ He got up and walked away. ‘Dillon.’

Billy said, ‘Harry and I have followed Michael Rashid and Aidan Bell to Hangman’s Wharf. They’ve boarded the Hazar. Do you want to tell Fergiison?’

‘No, this is our business. I didn’t want Ferguson

to know, in case he says don’t do it. I’ll be with you in half an hour.’

He returned to the table. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’m sure you’ll handle things here, General. Tell them we know about their plans for the boat trip, and they’ll never get away with it. They’ve come to the end of the line.’

‘Do you need me?’ Blake asked.

‘Not this time, old son.’ He looked at Paul Rashid. ‘I’d listen to the General, I really would.’ Then he turned and went out. Smiling.

It was raining, driving in across the Thames at Hangman’s Wharf, as Billy and Harry parked. Billy went round and opened the tailgate of the Shogun and produced an umbrella.

‘Well, that’s nice,’ Harry said. ‘I tell you what. It doesn’t make you look like Bogart in The Big Sleep.’

‘Yes, well, I do have a shooter in my pocket,’ Billy said. ‘So I suppose that’s all that matters.’

On board the Hazar, Bell and Michael Rashid had a drink. Rashid said, ‘Right, you have a quiet night. I’ll be in touch tomorrow, and tomorrow night, unless things change, will be the big one.’

‘Well, we’ll see,’ Aidan Bell told him.

Outside, a voice called, ‘Hey, are you there, Rashid, and that Irish fuck with you?’

Bell and Rashid drew Brownings and approached the companionway.

Dillon had arrived fifteen minutes earlier, parked behind Billy and Harry, and joined them. He called Ferguson on his mobile.

‘Where are you?’ Ferguson asked, so Dillon told him. ‘For God’s sake. What are you playing at?’

‘We still can’t confirm the hit, the river or the Dorchester, so I’m taking the initiative. I’m with Billy and Harry. Bell left the Rashid house with Michael, they followed to Michael’s boat at Wapping, and I’ve joined them.’

‘Dillon, just listen to me.’

‘No, I’m going to listen to me, General. I’ll let you know how it goes.’

He switched off.

‘He wasn’t pleased?’ Harry asked.

‘Not really. He might be if we get a result.’

‘How do we play it?’ Billy asked.

Dillon took off his jacket and loosened his tie as he told them. He took but his Walther and slipped it into the waistband of his trousers at the rear.

‘So you do the face-to-face, Billy, and you cover him, Harry.’

‘Christ, Dillon, it’s going to be cold in there.’

‘Never mind that. Just watch yourself, Billy. Bell’s tricky.’

‘Don’t worry about me. Think of yourself, Dillon. You’re the one at the short end.’

‘Fine. Just let me go in, then do your bit.’

Harry Salter crouched behind a bollard on the wharf. Dillon went down a ladder from the edge of the wharf and sank into the water. It was bitterly cold. He swam round to the other side of the Hazar and discovered, as he’d expected, a boarding ladder. It was then that Billy Salter approached the Hazar and called out.

‘Hey, are you there, Rashid, and that Irish fuck with you?’

Bell said to Michael Rashid, ‘You go to the stern, I’ll take the bow, and don’t screw around.’

Rashid said, ‘I can hold my own.’

‘Get on with it, then.’

Bell left him to go up the steps to the deck and Rashid went back through the cabins and pulled himself up the transom into the shadows of the stern.

Several things happened at the same time. Harry, behind the bollard, moved and Aidan Bell fired and hit Salter in the right shoulder. The force threw him

back and Bell pulled himself over the edge of the wharf and scrambled away in the shadows.

Michael Rashid fired several times and Billy returned fire. Rashid moved back against the rail … and Dillon reached up and pulled on his ankles and Rashid toppled over. Dillon got an arm around the neck, took a deep breath and reached for the anchor line to pull himself under. Rashid struggled, kicking, and Dillon hung on until the struggling stopped. From the shadows, Bell watched, then faded away.

Dillon released the body and pulled himself up the ladder to the wharf. Harry was on his feet, groaning, Billy supporting him.

‘Sorry, Dillon, we’ve lost Bell.’

‘Michael Rashid is dead.’ Dillon turned to Harry Salter. ‘Get in the Shogun. You drive, Billy. Take us to Rosedene. I’ll call Ferguson. He’ll pull in Professor Henry Bellamy.’

‘Dillon, I’m getting too old for this,’ Harry said.

‘Nonsense. We’ll get Dora in to nurse you.’

As they drove away, he called Ferguson. ‘You’re going to need the disposal team. Yes, Michael Rashid, You’ll find him in the water off Hangman’s Wharf by his boat, the Hazar.’

‘You did it yourself, I suppose.’

‘Bell got away after shooting Harry in the shoulder. We’re on our way to Rosedene. Get Bellamy. If he’s not available, Hannah’s dad. Only the best.’

‘Consider it done, but Dillon, it would be nice if you talked to me sometimes.’

At Rosedene, Dillon waited with Billy. Bellamy was busy doing a bypass operation at Guy’s, but Arnold Bernstein had been available.

Dillon said, ‘Let’s look in on Hannah.’

‘Suits me,’ Billy said.

She was sitting up, reading the Evening Standard, and looking far better than when Dillon had last seen her.

‘So, the two musketeers. Bring me up to date.’

Which Dillon did.

Afterwards, she sat there brooding. Dillon said, ‘What do you think?’

She was silent for a moment before she answered. ‘Did anyone ever tell you the details of how Paul Rashid got his Military Cross in the Gulf War?’

‘No, what about it?’

‘Well, I’ve read the file. Villiers took twenty men behind the Iraqi lines in two Russian sand cruisers.

Rashid was in charge of group two. Ten men. But he made a mistake. He radioed Villiers on a clear line when it looked like there was an emergency, and the Iraqis picked it up, homed in and took out every man in his command.’

Billy said, ‘Except Rashid?’

‘Exactly. However, when Villiers got to where Rashid was, there was no one there. Just seven Iraqi soldiers, all dead and all emasculated.’

‘And Rashid?’ Dillon asked.

‘Reached the Allied lines ten days later, walking on his own.’

Dillon said, ‘Tony Villiers never mentioned this. Why not?’

Hannah smiled and shook her head. ‘That’s a comfort - even the great Sean Dillon can be naive. Look, Rashid is an Earl. And the product of Sandhurst, the Grenadier Guards and the SAS. Now, whatever else those outfits taught you, it wasn’t how to cut off your opponent’s cock. So that we keep quiet about.’